It is not for a common man like me to say." Silence ensued, during which Agatha, furtively scrutinizing the tenant of the chalet, noticed that his face and neck were cleaner and less sunburnt than those of the ordinary toilers of Lyvern.

His hands were hidden by large gardening gloves stained with coal dust.

Lyvern laborers, as a rule, had little objection to soil their hands; they never wore gloves.

Still, she thought, there was no reason why an eccentric workman, insufferably talkative, and capable of an allusion to the pen of the poet, should not indulge himself with cheap gloves.

But then the silk, silvermounted umbrella-- "The young lady's hi," he said suddenly, holding out the umbrella, "is fixed on this here.